


because loving you is my favorite kind of weather

by storyskein



Series: (Well I've Heard 'Em Say) There's One For Everybody [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Long-Distance Relationship, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sex Toys, Sweet/Hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 19:59:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7521130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyskein/pseuds/storyskein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy is in Greece for four months on a field assignment, and Clarke finds herself just a little bit lonely. Good thing Skype exists.</p>
            </blockquote>





	because loving you is my favorite kind of weather

**Author's Note:**

> When fandom goes wild, make sure you have friends who remind you of the important things in life: lace panties, sex toys, and Bellarke. So naturally, they should be put in a fic together!  
>   
> Thanks to verbapulchellae for the prompt: sexting and masturbation...which turned into long-distance Skyping, but hey.
> 
> And as always, thank you as always to my beta readers skikru and verbaepulchellae! <3 you guys.

“So when does he get back?” Harper asked, stretching her legs out on the lounge chair. 

Clarke followed suit, leaning fully back into the cushions. The hot summer sun glinted off the water droplets on her legs, and the gold embroidered flowers on her bikini sparkled. 

“Four more weeks,” Clarke answered. She tried to make her voice sound casual, but Harper turned to her with a sympathetic look. 

“You obviously need more booze, Griffin.” Raven reached into the cooler between their chairs and pulled out an icy bottle of beer, popped the cap off. “Drink up.” 

“Thanks, friend.” Clarke took a long pull from the beer. A cool breeze kicked up off the pool, twisted the curls around her neck. A sudden, visceral memory of she and Bellamy fucking the night before he left for his field assignment in Greece flashed through her mind. He had positioned her in front of the large mirror floor-length mirror in their hotel room, made her put her foot up on a chair, turn her leg outward so she was wholly exposed to him. Then, with one of his large hands gently holding her neck---whispering into her ear to _keep your eyes open, babe, I want you to see how beautiful you are, I want you to watch my hands over you, my hands in you, I want you to feel this every day that I’m gone_ \---made her watch as his fingers circled her clit, fucked into her, painted her arousal over her stomach, her tits. 

Clarke’s face flushed as the memory of the orgasm ghosted through her body, caused her thighs to clench. 

“...so lucky that you get to meet him in Greece at the end of the--Clarke?” Raven nudged her. “You still with us?”

“What? Oh yes. Yeah! I do!” She took a long drink from the bottle, let the crisp beer soothe her. “I’ll be meeting him in Athens at the end of August. I’ve never been to Greece. He’ll still have some work to do at the site, but that’ll be fun. Getting to see him at work.”

Raven cocked her eyebrow. “He’s a regular ol’ Indiana Jones, that one.” 

Clarke groaned. “That’s awful.” 

“Nerds, the both of you,” Harper said affectionately. She pushed herself off the lounge. “I’m going in for a swim. Who wants to come?”

*

Clarke slid open the patio door and gooseflesh prickled her skin as the air-conditioner hit her sun-hot skin full force. Raven and Harper had left to get groceries since the rest of the group would be joining them at the beach house in a few hours. Recognizing precious alone time when she could get it, Clarke opted to stay home and prep for the meal. 

But first…

Clarke made her way to the sanctuary of her small room. She’d have to share with Raven tonight once they rearranged for all of the couples, and she didn’t mind but...

Well. Bellamy had been away for two months. And with the pheromones of all the other couples filling the house…

Clarke bit her lip, closed the door behind her and locked it. She glanced at her phone--3:36--maybe Bellamy would be on Skype. Greece was seven hours ahead of the east coast, and he usually stayed in most evenings to read and research. 

Except that with her vacation hours over the past few days and some fundraising dinners he’d attended in the evenings over the past few weeks...it had been over a week since they’d talked for any length of time. Clarke missed him. 

She flipped open her laptop, clicked the icon, and immediately sighed. 

Nope. 

Fine. 

Porn and the trusty vibrator it would be. She dug the vibrator out of her luggage, along with her lube, and put it on the nightstand. 

Clarke sent him a message to call whenever he could and kept Skype open in hope, then clicked onto her and Bellamy’s shared porn account with a feminist porn company. She looked into the history to see what he had watched lately (thank you, geo-blocking). The video looked hot--two women and a strapon, something she enjoyed---normally in a time-pressed situation she would go for it...but…

What she really wanted was him. She could almost feel his weight as he settled between her legs, the pressure of his hipbones against her thighs. His tongue rolling her tits, his teeth gently holding her nipple between them. 

Yeah. That. _That_ is what she wanted.

Getting into it was always the hardest part of it for her, especially without porn or erotica or Bellamy’s assistance. Just Clarke and her thoughts, and even on the third day of vacation, it seemed so easy to fill her mind with to-do lists and stress. So she found her favorite low-key sexy playlist on her phone, turned it on, let the music fill the room. 

Clarke breathed deeply, even inhales and exhales, letting herself notice her body. Warm skin, flushed from the sunlight, cooled from the water and a/c, a little sticky with chlorine and sunscreen. Clarke unclasped the halter top. Smooth swimming fabric rolled down her body under her work-calloused fingers. She shimmied out of her bottoms, toed them to meet the halter that had made it to the floor. 

She clicked open the bottle of lube, jelly slicking her fingers. Even that simple action sent pleasure sparking in her belly, anticipation lighting her up deep. She needed this, needed to connect to Bellamy in some way. Clarke let her knees fall open to the sides, slid her fingers between her folds, and opened up the memory of the night before he left…

_“Bellamy,” her voice was soft with wonder as he opened the door to their hotel room. “You didn’t have to do this.”_

_He moved behind her, placing his hands on the small of her back and gently propelled her forward. “I know.” Bellamy bent to kiss the juncture of her neck and shoulders. Clarke moaned and pressed into it, heart giving a pang at the bittersweetness of it all. “But I wanted to. Our last night for awhile should be pretty fucking epic.”_

_Clarke turned in his arms and grinned at him. “It would be epic even at one of our apartments. But this is amazing.”_

_“Epic with a view, then,” he grinned. “And a king-sized bed.” He nuzzled her a bit. “I’m going to fuck you all over this room, you know that right?”_

_Heat shivered in her low belly. “Yes.”_

_Bellamy bit lightly along her shoulder, nosing the strap of the dress down. “Make you scream.”_

_“That’s a lot of big talk,” she whispered, head thrown back as he licked along her collarbone._

_“Do you want it, Clarke? You want me to make you come so hard you’ll remember it for four months?”_

_“Yes,” she brought his face up to hers, bit into his lips. “I can’t wait. Just like,” she pulled his belt through the buckle, “I can’t wait,” pulled the rest of it through the loops, “to see you buck-ass naked.” The belt landed with a thunk on the ground._

_“Buck-ass naked?” He laughed, his own hands working deftly at the back buttons of her dress. “You’ve been watching too much Friday Night Lights.”_

_“Clear eyes,” she murmured into his mouth, nipping at his lower lip while she worked the buttons of his shirt. God, his lips, so pillowy and going forever. He licked out into her mouth as he shoved her dress to the ground._

_“Fuck, Clarke, that lace,” he breathed. He fucking loved lace, loved looking at it covering her ass. She had chosen his favorite piece for that night, black and floral, full-coverage._

_Bellamy moved his hand to the flare of her hips, swiping his thumb over the silky fabric. In one fluid movement, he dropped to his knees in front of her. He roughly spread her thighs apart over him, and she let herself fall back against the door as he buried his head between her thighs. The man loved giving head, and she loved watching him do it._

_His tongue darted out over the silk, and the combination of his tongue_ on _her skin and_ not _because of the pattern of the lace made her knees weak._

_“Like that?” he murmured as he nosed further into her. He brought one of his fingers up trace along the lace, pressing over the fabric into her entrance. “Clarke, you’re so wet.”_

_“Yeah, for you, Bellamy.”_

_Bellamy licked over the panties, and she shuddered, bending her knees to press fully over his face. He pushed back into her, giving her something to grind on, and--_

Clarke thrust her hand out to find the vibrator. A plastic cup and her Kindle clattered to the floor, but she barely heard it. Keeping that sensation in her mind--the way the flat of Bellamy’s tongue felt on her cunt through the lace underwear--she lubed up her vibrator, an all-purpose G-spot stimulator with seven-inches and a nice curve to it. 

She turned it on and gave it a few clicks to ramp up the vibration, pressed the flat of the top to the side of her clit. Moving in slow circles that mimicked how Bellamy moved his tongue over her, she slid her other hand over her belly and to her breasts, palming one, squeezing the flesh in her hands. 

Fuck, that was good. The memory of his mouth on her that night melded with the soft vibration from the toy; she moved the toy with his tongue, following the pattern of how he would lick up and down her cunt until--

_Doo do do, do de do..._

Bellamy! Shit!

Before her mind even caught up with her, she rolled over on the bed, clicked to receive the call. Portishead drifted through the speakers before his picture even cleared--fucking international calls--and she belatedly realized two things: one, she was still naked, and two, her vibrator was humming in the background. 

“Clarke?” He came into focus, and then there was a pause. “...Clarke, are you naked?”

She licked her lips. “Um. Yes.”

Bellamy looked a little rumpled, his hair a mess. Cheeks splotchy. A gleam to his eyes that came when he was drunk. 

“Are you drunk?” 

He grinned, abashed. “Yes. Yeah. I am. I ugh...God, we made a pretty good discovery today but...,” He paused, and his eyes swept the screen in front of him. “Fuck, Clarke, you’re naked.” 

“We established that.” She smirked, an idea forming in her mind that made her bite her lip. 

“And what’s that noise that…,” Bellamy’s eyes grew round, and he grinned, abso-fucking-lutely delighted. “That’s your vibrator!”

Clarke giggled, couldn’t help herself. Fuck, she loved him. “Yes.”

“You were…,” he shoved his hand through his hair, then leaned close to the screen. “You were _masturbating_.”

“I was.” She missed her higher-quality webcam, wanted to give him a better view. “And I’m still going to.” 

Bellamy swallowed thickly. “Can I watch?”

Clarke rose to her knees and splayed them apart, then pushed back the screen to show more of herself. His groan came through the speakers loud and clear. “What about if you join?”

There was a pause, his tongue flashing over his lips. It was her turn to swallow thickly, stifle a groan. She wanted that tongue on her cunt, now, not in goddamn Greece. 

“Yeah. Of course. Shit, Clarke, yes, why haven’t we done this before?” He was leaning back in his chair; she heard the rustle of clothing as he pulled off his shirt. 

“I have no idea.” She reached over and grabbed the vibrator, clicked it up another few levels. “But we’re starting now.”

“Fuck yes we are. One second.” He vanished from the screen, then he sat back down. “Locked the door,” he said, smiling so sweetly and so drunkenly that she wanted to reach out and touch his smile lines. “Privacy.” Then his eyes focused on her, and he tucked his lip under his teeth. “Tell me about your day, Clarke. I missed you.”

That took her back a moment. “Oh, um. Well...I went running this morning.” She watched as his hand moved over the bulge in his pants, massaging it. 

“In what?”

“The purple sports bra. And those black shorts you like.” 

“God, your ass looks so perfect in those. Always perfect,” he amended with a grin. “But I love those in particular.” He cocked his eyebrow. “You stopped moving the vibrator.”

“Yeah, I…”

“Keep moving it, Clarke.” His eyes took on a gleam, one that had nothing to do with beer. “We’re going to make you a little crazy.”

_Fuck_. It felt like every single cell in her body blushed the way he said it, the surety he had that he could do that, from across the computer screen, from across the world . He knew her that way, knew exactly what she wanted and needed. 

“Okay,” she breathed. Clarke let the vibrator fall against her skin, drug it down her belly, across the thatch of blonde curls at her juncture. “But only if you scoot that chair back so I can see your cock.”

“Done.” A few seconds later, a fuller picture of him focused. His pants were unzipped now, shoved halfway down his thighs. Clarke could see the vee-ridge of his hips, the same muscles she licked on her way to sucking his cock. “Now, the rest of your day?”

The vibrator hummed against her labia, her own wetness now joining the silkiness of the lube. Her chin tilted back at the pleasure that thrummed up her body. “Um...Swimming. I swam. Then we laid out.” 

Bellamy stroked his cock lightly, his own lotion glistening in the low light. Clarke licked her lips, wanting to taste him. “Yeah? Which swimsuit?”

“The white one, with gold flowers.”

His hand started moving faster. “Your tits look amazing in that top.” 

“Yeah. I--I like the way they look. In that bikini.” Heat crawled up her body at that admission. Apparently fucking herself in front of her boyfriend was one thing, but admitting she found herself hot in her favorite bikini another. 

“Oh babe.” Bellamy saw her twinge of insecurity, forehead creased at it. “When you wore that top? When we went to the springs with all of our friends? Do you remember what happened when we--”

Clarke laughed a little, even though lust was beginning to give hard pulses in her thighs, in her stomach. “You...you took me to the car…”

Bellamy’s eyes fluttered. “Couldn’t stop sucking your tits. Fuck.” His grip tightened around his cock, stroking from base to tip, rounding at the top. 

Clarke pressed the vibrator harder against her, swirled it around her entrance. Let the vibration tickle into her body. But when she looked up at him, eyes blown wide as he watched her, she only felt the lack of his mouth on hers, the phantom of his hands against her skin. She whined, frustrated. 

“Tell me what’s going on, babe.” His voice was a bit breathless. She nearly fainted dead away when his free hand trailed up his abs, fingers trapping his own nipple and pinching. He had never done _that_ when they were together, and suddenly even more moisture dripped out onto her thighs. 

“I just...I just miss you. I want you here.” 

“I know, babe. I know. But why don’t you push that vibrator into you? Let me watch you fuck yourself with that.” 

Clarke nodded, splayed her knees even further out so he had a clearer view as she slowly pushed the deep-rose colored toy into her cunt. 

“Jesus, babe, that’s hot.” His hand trailed back down his abs, and from thousands of miles away, Clarke felt a sympathetic sensation twisting in her flesh from her tits, trailing down her belly. “Now fuck yourself with it.”

“Oh, god.” Her other hand moved to her clit, while his free hand moved to his balls and started caressing them there. Clarke pulled the toy out, then pushed it back in. It took her a second to find her rhythm, conscious as she was of Bellamy watching her, but then suddenly it clicked. She threw her head back as the vibrator slid in and out of her, the deep rumble dragging along the inside of her walls. Her other hand moved in concert, rubbing her clit fast and dirty, like how she wished Bellamy was fucking her. 

“Oh god, Clarke, you’re so hot,” Bellamy’s voice came to her through the speaker, but fuck, it was _his_ voice, low and gravelly and pulling her towards him. “Is that make you feel good? Talk to me, babe.”

It took her a beat to find her voice. “Yes, fuck, it feels so good. I can’t--I can’t--I---”

“You’re good. Babe, you’re okay,” he chuckled, low and deep. She looked again at him, briefly, and his hand was only slowly stroking himself. 

“Aren’t you--aren’t--” She could barely make words out. She was at that highest plateau, right before the final push, pleasure and need and lust spreading all over her flesh, pebbling her nipples. She knew with the lightest touch on her skin her hips would start bucking, hand mercilessly fucking the toy into herself. 

But she wasn’t there yet. And his hand was only lightly stroking his cock, enough to keep himself hard and with her, but not enough to go over at the same time she would. 

“No, no, babe, I want to watch you first. I haven’t seen you in days, I just want to watch you get off. God, you’re almost there? You look so good, Clarke, your tits bouncing. Touch--yeah, touch one for me. Keep going, fuck, Clarke.” 

So she did. 

The only thing between them now were the soft sounds of the vibrator humming, slipping in and out of her cunt, Clarke’s moans as she thrust it faster and faster inside of her. The tickling-throb moved into a full body experience, radiating outward from her cunt to her thighs, her stomach, up into her tits, making them feel achy and hot. She felt the current working its way up through her spine, into her jaw, filling her head with white-blue light. 

“Clarke, I want you to come for me babe,” Bellamy’s voice whispered out of the computer. “Put your hand against your clit, fuck your hand. The way you like it when I do it. Come on. Do it for me, Clarke. Do it for me.”

Clarke flattened her hand against her clit, fucking herself with the toy and grinding on her palm and _jesusgodfuck_ , the white-blue light exploded behind her eyes. Her body curled forward, and she let out a long groan. She forced her eyes open to watch Bellamy watch her, his wide mouth open slightly, his eyes hot and reverent. He moaned involuntarily, the sound of a primal prayer slipping past his lips. 

A few seconds of charged silence passed as she came down from that high of fucked-out pleasure, returning piece by piece to herself, into her body. 

“Clarke,” his voice was low but reedy with strain. “That was amazing.”

Clarke drew the light cotton robe she kept on her bed around her shoulders, just enough to give her a bit of grounding, of comfort. She gave him a look beneath her eyelids, feeling at once sated and not a little bit powerful. 

“Your turn, Bellamy.” She let her hand go back to her cunt, softly stroking. His eyes focused there for a moment, hand pumping faster on his cock.

“Do you remember, Bellamy, the night before you left?” she began, pitching her voice as low as possible. “How you said that you were going to fuck me so that my body remembered it?”

He nodded, tried to speak, but was already beyond it. 

“The first thing I thought of when I tried to get myself off was how you licked me through those lacy panties until I came over you, do you remember that?” She took his groan as a sign of yes, he did, in fact, remember that. Pre-cum beaded at his slit, barely caught the meager lamp light in his dark apartment.

“Then you made me come again--in front of the mirror?”

“Clarke,” his voice wasn’t so much a whisper as a plea. A flush crawled from behind his ears, down his neck. The faintest shimmer of sweat on his chest made her bite her lip. 

“Clarke what, Bellamy? Tell me what you want.”

“Just--keep going.” His hand slid up his dick, took the precum and slid back down. God, her body was confused, she just came but that quick-sand feeling of wanting to chase more began building again. 

“You held my neck, my face. Made me watch as your other hand fucked me. I’ve never been so turned on in my life. I could…,”--could she say it out loud? It sounded so filthy-- “...could feel your dick against my ass. How hard you were. How much you wanted to fuck me. But you didn’t. You just kept going.” 

“And? What did I do next?” 

Bellamy’s hand was moving faster, his second hand joining in to grip the base. Sweat beaded and rolled down his face, his hair sticking to his forehead. She wanted to reach over to him, push it back. 

“After I came again?” Clarke hummed a bit, letting her mind recall that night again like she had done earlier. The words flowed easier now. “I think you actually let me rest,” she teased. “For a few minutes. We drank champagne, stood naked at the windows. Gave New York City a real eyeful.”

He grinned, but it looked pained. “Clarke--”

“Fine, fine.” Clarke couldn’t help but tease, assured that even now it was a part of their play. “I remember...pushing you back to the bed, getting on my knees and sucking your cock. I remember how you tasted, too--I had just had champagne and eaten strawberries, and there was already precum on your tip.” She flattened her palm against her clit, rubbing ever so lightly. 

“Oh god, yeah,” he groaned. She had never watched him lose control so plainly before her, never just watched him make himself come. He was close, though, she could tell, the head of his dick flushed, precum beading relentlessly and dribbling down. 

“But what I think about the most, Bellamy, when I get myself off, when we woke up--remember? You woke me up at three in the morning, you had to leave the hotel at five to catch your flight--and I was sore, you had fucked me all the night before. Over the dresser….on the bed...in the shower.”

“Shit, yes, yes--that morning--I--”

Clarke’s own mind went hazy, merging with the memory, with the visual of Bellamy on the screen, with the soft thumping music in the background, the expectant stillness of the house around her. “I woke up with your head between my thighs, and I almost came again, then you got onto your knees, fucked into me? Made me--fuck,” she lost her train of thought, thinking of the dark and quiet of that early morning, how he started fucking her gentle, but it ended up being relentless and desperate. “...You flipped me over?” 

“Yes, god, the way backed your ass over my dick, Clarke, I-- _fuck_ …” A shudder rolled through Bellamy’s body as he came, cum hitting his chest, his stomach. He moaned again, a second and then third convulsion, one hand gripping the arm of his chair as his ragged breath filled the speakers, filled her room. “Goddamn, Clarke. Goddamn.” 

Clarke didn’t say anything, just kept the pressure right over her clit and _there_. A second, light orgasm rippled through her. Her hand flexed into her cunt, held it there to make it last as long as it could. 

A minute passed as Bellamy wiped himself down, and Clarke tissued herself dry, drew the robe further over her. 

It wasn’t an awkward silence between them so much as a shy one, the knowing that their relationship had taken a turn to something slightly more vulnerable, more intimate; that even as far apart as they were, they were still together. 

Before either of them could say anything, the garage door rumbled. Car doors slammed; the garage door into the house squeaked. Chatter filled the kitchen. 

“I have to go. Everyone’s back.” Clarke bit her lip and tried to fight off the sudden, overwhelming sensation that she wanted to cry. They might not be apart for long, but it still sucked. 

Bellamy smiled, seeing through her attempts to be calm. Leaned forward, adjusted his screen so that it was mostly his face and shoulders. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah...I just...you know. Love you. Miss you.”

“I know. Four more weeks is all though. And you know--this is pretty hot,” he admitted, mouth quirking into a grin. “It’ll make the time pass. We’ll figure it out.” 

“Always do,” she promised. She heard Raven and Harper and now Monty and Bryan yelling for her from the kitchen. “I have to go. Everyone is here.” 

“Tell them hi for me.” 

“Will do.” She touched the screen, not caring about the fingerprints. Bellamy’s mouth curved up just a bit, soft and touched, and he returned the gesture. It was sappy as hell, Clarke knew, but she also knew that he was a secret romantic at heart. And she needed to do something else than just close the laptop. 

“Love you, Clarke.” 

“Love you, Bellamy. Sleep well.” 

“I’ll call you tomorrow. Night, babe.” 

Bellamy’s picture froze in front of her then went black. Clarke shut the laptop. 

_They showered together, no time for lingering touches, just quick scrubbing. The plan was for Clarke to walk him to the cab, say goodbye on the street. There wasn’t a reason to follow him to the airport, besides, she had to catch the train and go back…_

_She swallowed a lump in her throat but turned away. Bellamy wouldn’t mind seeing it, but it was already hard enough._

_Her body ached as she pulled on her clothes, that kind of muscular soreness that resided deep in the flesh. Clarke welcomed it. Just like he said she would; just like he wanted it to._

_They were mostly silent as they pack up, saying inane things like, “Did you get your charger?” and “Here’s your toothbrush.” They had been dating for a year after knowing each other for several, but still, the commitment to something long distance for four months seemed...big. Something that they were embarking on together, even though they’d be apart._

_The hallways and lobby were quiet; a little before five in the morning and only business travelers milled around. They held hands, pulled their luggage behind them, passed through the revolving doors and out onto the street, muggy and warm._

_“Call me when you get settled,” Clarke said. She tugged at the fabric of his light jacket, pulled him closer._

_Bellamy bent to kiss her, brought his hands up to cup her face. His thumbs stroked over her cheeks. “We’ll be fine, Clarke. It’s only four months.”_

_“Yeah, I know.” She sniffed._

_“Then you’re coming to me.” He gave her another kiss. “And then we’re coming back together.”_

_The cab drove up just then, driver bustling out of his side. Only a few more quick squeezes, one bone-crushing hug with her face nestled into his neck, lips resting against his warm skin, breathing him in until she was filled with him._

_Then he was gone._

Clarke had been sad, of course, just like she was now. But then, as now, the ache of their separation mixed with the sure knowledge that they’d work it out, that soon, they’d be together. With that, she pulled on some clothes, twisted her hair into a ponytail, checked her reflection in the mirror--only a little bit fucked-out, but it made her grin--and walked downstairs to join her friends.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from an amazing Iris DeMent song called _Hotter Than Mojave In My Heart_ , which contains lyrical gems such as:  
>   
>  _Well, I've heard them say there's one for everybody_  
>  _And I just knew somehow that you'd be the one for me_  
>  _'Cause making love with you's not just a hobby_  
>  _No, it's the flame that burnt the forest down in me_
> 
> Give it a listen and get some happy modern-au Bellarke feels!


End file.
